


Blood and Water

by chromaberrant, connorssock



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Family Dinners, Family Drama, Family Dynamics, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:47:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22066501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chromaberrant/pseuds/chromaberrant, https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorssock/pseuds/connorssock
Summary: The news that Allen was getting married had reached his parents who he hadn't spoken to in eight years. Hoping to bring the family back together, they reach out to him and his partner. But really, nothing had changed in all that time.
Relationships: Captain Allen/CyberLife Tower Connor | RK800-60
Comments: 7
Kudos: 95
Collections: New ERA Discord: Winter Big Bang





	Blood and Water

**Author's Note:**

> Writter for the New Era Winter Big Bang Discord Server. Join the fun here: https://discord.gg/GqvNzUm
> 
> Art by the stunningly talented Chromeaberrant, make sure to give them lots of love in the comments.

Part of being Captain of the SWAT team involved PR work. Allen sighed as he approached the podium, the crowd in front of him a sea of eager journalists. It was generic crap, usually part of some funding drive to show the commissioner that the SWAT teams could play nice and garner good publicity. Resigned to inane questions, Allen took his place with a smile. Hands went up immediately and he started fielding questions. Some of them were bog standard, SWAT’s stance on androids in the workplace, the rate of success enjoyed by the team. It wasn’t until he nodded to a guy waving his hand like mad to ask his question that things got interesting.

“Joss Douglas, Detroit Morning Glory,” he grinned and waved at Allen. They knew each other from a distance, having met in similar situations before. “Captain, I couldn’t help but notice a new accessory you wear. Is that an engagement ring adorning your finger?”

Suddenly self-conscious, Allen released the edges of the podium where he had leaned against it, his fingers going to play with the mentioned golden band.

“It is actually.” He smiled softly to himself. “We’re getting married in a little over two months.”

A murmur of congratulations went up but otherwise the questions moved on, back to the usual, familiar territory of work. The small blip of his own personal news got washed away in the other, more relevant chatter. It wasn’t something Allen really even thought much about. At least not until a few days after the interview was aired and Sanders approached him with a curious look.

“Got some mail for you, boss. The traditional kind.”

He handed over an almost old fashioned envelope, one that had already been checked over for harmful content but was deemed safe, most likely a card of some description. Taking it, Allen retreated to his office before opening it. He read it once. Then read it again. It was an invitation from his parents, who he hadn’t seen in over eight years. They had seen the interview, heard he was getting married, and wanted to heal the rift between them at long last. Naturally, Allen’s fiancée was invited too. That rankled Allen, he was half tempted to write back that his  _ fiancé _ and he were going to live a happy life without them. However, that was hasty and unfair. And, truth be told, part of Allen hoped that he would be able to salvage the remains of the relationship. Maybe, just maybe, Sixty could be the catalyst to that too.

That evening, when both of them were home, Allen pushed the letter towards Sixty hesitantly. In all their time together, Sixty hadn’t pressed too hard about Allen’s family, simply accepting that they weren’t in the picture. Being an only child, Allen had not had a vast experience with family. Growing up had been average, nothing special and nothing terrible. It was only when some of his lifestyle choices were questioned by his parents that things truly deteriorated between them. For years he listened to how his parents muttered about him having a phase, that he’d grow out of it, that he’d find a nice, safe job and settle down and become good old fashioned statistic with a wife, 2.4 kids and a picket white fence surrounded house. None of that ever happened and a couple of years before he made captain, they had a blazing argument. Things were said that cut deep, that hurt. Allen walked out of his parents’ house that afternoon and never returned.

“Do you want to go?” That wasn’t the question Allen had been expecting from Sixty. Probably asking about why his parents didn’t just message or call like everyone else, or even something more probing about what had happened all those years ago. Allen had moved house twice since then and changed his number more frequently than some changed underwear. Sixty probably knew that already but left those topics to be brought up when Allen wanted to talk about them.

Deflated, Allen blew out a breath. “I think so? They’re making an effort and that’s what counts, right?”

What he didn’t know was whether it was fair to pull Sixty into the whole mess. It certainly wasn’t fair to do it blind, so he began talking, explaining everything that had happened. Laying out all the heartache and all his regrets. Because Allen hadn’t been an entirely innocent party either. He’d said things he regretted, told his parents that if this was the way they behaved then it was just as well they were never getting grandchildren.

With it all out in the open for Sixty to assess, analyse, and judge, Allen watched him with trepidation. He was confident enough in their relationship to know it wouldn’t falter but at the same time, he hated being vulnerable and not knowing the immediate outcome of something. Braced as he was, he almost flinched at the soft brush of a hand against his.

“We always knew children aren’t in our future, this doesn’t change a thing. If you want to reconnect with your parents, I would be honoured to be there with you to help in any way I can.”

That was one of the many reasons Allen loved Sixty. He always knew what to say to make things seem so straightforward. Nodding, he turned his hand to grip Sixty’s.

“Thank you.”

There was an e-mail address at the bottom of the letter - it hadn’t changed in eight years, his parents still insisting on sharing one inbox. The reply Allen wrote took a couple of attempts and Sixty’s gentle guidance, using his negotiator protocols to find a decent response. Tentatively, they suggested a meal somewhere neutral in the next couple of weeks.

Next day they had a reply. Allen’s parents were offering to host them for lunch over the weekend. With some trepidation, Allen agreed to their suggestion, not feeling like he could rock the boat and insist on a restaurant meal instead of a home cooked meal. Concessions made, he and Sixty could only wait until the weekend rolled round.

Ringing the familiar doorbell, Allen stood back, Sixty by his elbow. When the door opened, he offered a hesitant little smile, all too aware of how the last eight years had changed him. More weathered, deeper wrinkles, a few scars to boot, he was probably a walking vision of his parents’ nightmares. And that was before he stepped aside to introduce Sixty.

There were some stiff smiles from his parents, no doubt Sixty could easily read them and their disappointment that Allen wasn’t bringing home some lovely young lady he had settled down with. They were led into the house, Allen curiously noting the changes they’d made over the years. Gone were the richly coloured walls, a plain magnolia in its place. The dining table was still the same but the rug under it a creamy white instead of the colourful one he remembered - that had been exceptionally great at hiding dropped food and stains. Everything felt sterile, too clean and white. Allen wondered if his parents actually lived there or if they merely existed, waiting for the end to come for them.

There were four places set, and his mum was bringing the dishes to the table, serving her husband, then her son, before finally turning to Sixty.

“I’m afraid I am not able to consume what certainly smells like a wonderful meal.” Sixty had a hand hovering over his plate to stop food going on it and smiled warmly.

A silence stretched until Allen’s mum nodded. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything to serve your kind.”

Not the kindest way to phrase it but Sixty’s hand on Allen’s thigh stilled him.

“I thought you looked familiar. You were the one on that rooftop, rescuing that kid,” Allen’s father finally piped up. “That where you met?”

Exchanging a look, Sixty took a very human breath before explaining that he wasn’t Connor. It was a conversation he was well versed in, had it boiled down to a succinct little spiel which usually cleared things up. Neither he nor Allen expected the response though.

“Shame, it looked like Connor was good with kids.”

It made Allen sit up straighter, an annoyed flush taking up residence on his cheeks. Before he could open his mouth, Sixty smiled.

“He is about as hopeless as I am. Give either of us a dead body and we’re in our element. There’s a reason he’s a detective and I work in the morgue. Our skills do not mesh well with live children.”

A horrified silence stretched on for far too long, all while Allen was trying to hide his laughter. There was something hysterical about the deadpan way Sixty delivered that and he had to dig his nails into his palm to stop from bursting out in giggles. Instead, he crammed some too hot food into his mouth.

“This is delicious. Just as I remember it.” Just like that, the frozen silence was broken but nobody seemed intent on filling it. For a good while the only sound was that of forks and knives against the plates.

“You know,” his mum piped up eventually, “we had made peace with your choices. But this is really rather childish of you.”

It was what Allen had been dreading. He put his utensils down and gave his parents a polite look but said nothing. Next to him, Sixty looked a little on edge too.

“You wanted a dangerous job and got it, despite our begging you not to,” his mum continued. “So we came to terms with the fact that we might have to step in and look after grandchildren and raise them like our own.”

Sixty made to interrupt but Allen cut him off with a shake of his head while his mum ploughed on, undeterred.

“Then you were adamant that you were gay, that it wasn’t a phase. That was a little harder to accept but we did our best. And sure, adoptive grandchildren would never hold the same status as a blood relative but if you were adamant on doing that, we could have learnt to try and love them. Because we love you.”

Words were on the tip of Allen’s tongue. A tirade about family not having to be blood relatives, how an adoptive family was just the same as having children of your own genetic make-up. However, that was all stuff he’d said before and it hadn’t made a difference back then, so he doubted it would have an impact now.

“But really, this is just taking it too far. No adoption agency is going to ever consider an android a suitable stand-in for a parent. Why are you so intent on denying us the grandparent experience, Fletcher?”

There it was. The age old argument that had Allen walking out of the house eight years ago. He couldn’t explain in simple enough words that children just were not his thing. And in no way was he going to father a child just so his parents could enjoy a couple of hours a week playing grandparents. The rest of the time he would be the one responsible for the child and that wasn’t something he wanted. It was not to spite his parents, no matter how personally they took it.

“Well,” Sixty clapped his hands. “This has been a delightful disaster. Thank you very much for the opportunity to meet you and I really hope we never have to repeat such an experience. If you’ll excuse us now, we must get going.”

He was standing up and Allen followed suit, grateful that Sixty was so unrepentant and outspoken. This was only ever going to descend into another shouting match anyway and if the neighbours called the cops on them, that would not look good on his record.

Opposite them, his parents were gawping, unable to believe that Sixty had the gall to be so rude. There were mutters of “disrespecting the hosts in their own house” and “young programmers thinking they can get away with adding such rude behaviour to a machine” however, it was all cut off coldly by Allen.

“I’m sorry I’m such a disappointment to you. And I’m sorry you cannot love me as I am, happy and without children.”

The thing was, Allen really was sorry. It was with a heavy heart that he realised he was still just as much a disappointment to his parents as before. Nothing had changed. If anything, his parents were rejecting him not just for his principles but now also because of his fiancé. He wasn’t sorry for who he was and who he chose as his husband, but he was sorry that his parents couldn’t accept them.

Sixty led them back to the car. Outside, in the bright sunshine, Allen took a deep breath and glanced over his shoulder. His childhood home loomed above them. It was likely that he was never going to set foot inside it again. Not willingly and not while both his parents were alive at least. It hurt. So much more than it did eight years ago. Only, this time he had Sixty next to him, driving them home and letting the house disappear around a corner. As soon as they were a healthy distance away, Sixty pulled over.

“You okay?” He was unbuckling himself and leaning over to pull Allen into a half hug. “I’m so sorry. I had hoped they would be better.”

“They only wanted to see me because they thought I’d finally bring them grandkids.” Allen let out a disbelieving little huff. It morphed into tears as his hands started to shake. “Why am I not enough for them?”

Shimmying across the handbrake and onto the passenger seat, Sixty pulled Allen into a proper hug.

“Some people just can’t step out of their own selfish narrative. They try to shoehorn everyone into their interpretation of the world and when people don’t bend, they’re cruelly rejected. It’s not your failing, it is theirs.”

Burying his face into Sixty’s chest, Allen tried to get himself under control. They had known this would likely happen. That nothing would have changed since eight years ago. Only, now Allen wasn’t on his own, it wasn’t an empty apartment he was going back to, wondering whether he’d made a horrendous mistake. He was going home with his fiancé. Someone who loved him as he was, shared the dreams of a future with him. They had each other, a good group of friends and jobs which were fulfilling. All in all, their life looked pretty good.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still making a mess of things over on tumblr as @connorssock.
> 
> And on a side note - this is the 100th fic I'm posting on here. How did I get sucked so deep into this fandom?


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